"Mercenaries," Dughuilas said. His voice was filled with scorn. "No match for the chivalry of Tamaerthon."

"They have been a match for better cavalry than yours," Dragomer said.

Not the wisest thing he could have said, Rick thought. Dughuilas was chief of a large clan, and led a powerful faction of the Tamaerthan upper classes; and Dragomer was one of the Drantos lords who'd invited city-states mercenaries into Drantos in their revolt against young Ganton's father.

"I remind you of the King's Peace," Camithon said. "Answer gently, Eqeta Dragomer."

"I need not answer at all," Dragomer said. "Were the cities to find one leader-"

"They have not done so in memory." A new voice. Corgarff, a subchief. "Nor do I fear they will do now. Not so much as to send my sons to die in a Roman fight, to save lands for Rome. Unless-" He paused for a long moment, until he had everyone's attention. "Unless this Star Lord Gengrich, who leads the star-men lords in the south may yet come to lead all the cities? Perhaps the Lord Rick can tell us more of this man who once followed him."

I'll have his blood, Rick thought. I'll- "Careful," Tylara said. She kept her voice low. "He is Dughuilas's man, and Dughuilas has good reason to wish you ill."

"That is not well said." Camithon was very much Lord Protector when he spoke. "The Lord Parsons rebelled against the Lord Rick. The Lord Gengrich deserted the cause of the Lord Parsons, and by both our laws and the laws of the starmen remains in rebellion. How is the Lord Rick guilty of blood shed by rebels against his rule?"

But I am, Rick thought. I brought them here, and I let them get away from me. And now they're like wolves among sheep.

"They are rebels, but the Lord Rick has done little to capture them," Corgarff said. He didn't sound comfortable.

He's only following orders, Rick thought. Dughuilas's orders. Fairly crude way to embarrass me.

"He has done more than you," Yanulf said. "And by Yatar's blessing, the Lord Rick prevailed against the Lord Parsons." He glanced at Sigrim. "And the next day Vothan One-eye was pleased to smile upon our armies.

"But enough of this. Our talk does nothing. My lords, the Demon Star rises even as we speak! The ice forms thick in the caves. Yatar sends us the means of life, but we must grasp them. We must make sacrifice. We must."

"Indeed," Rick said.

"The stories of previous Times are clear," Yanulf continued. "Those whose castles stand on bare rock will learn their folly, and seek the caves of Yatar. There will be wars enough then.

"And then shall the gods come from the skies to trade; and from that trade shall come good and evil. And fire shall fall from the skies, and men shall smoke and burn as faggots, and their sores shall not heal. The only safety is the caves of Yatar and his Preserver."

"How can we grow the grains we need while our young men stand in arms?" Camithon demanded.

"Let the Star Lords protect us," shouted a guildsman. "They have power. Let them use it."

"Aye, we hold great power," Rick said. "Enough to turn the tide of battle, once, twice, several times.

But I think not enough for the troubles that come."

There was a long pause, as everyone considered what Rick had said. "If the starmen cannot defend us, and we cannot defend ourselves-" "March north." "No, march east." "Plant crops and trust to Yatar…" The babble rose in pitch.

"Your advice, Lord Rick?" Ganton spoke carefully and clearly, his boyish voice penetrating the noise. The room fell silent. "We would welcome your advice."

"Majesty. I would send an embassy to Marselius. A strong Rome has ever been important for the safety of Drantos. It is doubly important now. The Roman civil war must end, and Marselius owes us much already; while Flaminius owes us nought but hate.

"To see that Tamaerthon does not suffer from this, I say send Mac Clallan Muir himself as ambassador. Assisted by the Eqeta Morron and the Lady Gwen, and such others as I and the Lord Camithon shall agree to."

Camithon looked thoughtful, then turned to Drumold. "My lord. Will you seek truce between the Romans, and alliance?"

Drumold looked thoughtful. "Alliance with Rome. 'Tis a strange thought. Strange indeed. And yet-I will not oppose it. Aye. The Lord Rick is convincing. There is danger in a strong Rome, but there is more in a divided Rome during these times."

There were murmurs of approval.

It doesn't look like anyone saw it was a setup, Rick thought. Which is just as well. Machine politics, medieval style…

"Then let it be done," Camithon said.

"Go with the blessings of Yatar Skyfather," Yanuif said. "Go swiftly, before The Time comes on us and we all perish."

"How is your head?"

"Better," Rick said. "I wasn't sure you were speaking to me."

"You are my husband. How can I not speak to you?"

"Come off it," Rick said wearily. "What's wrong, anyway?"

"Nothing is wrong."

Sure. I can believe as much of that as I want. "I love you-"

"And I you."

"Do you?"

"Certainly." She seemed about to say something else, but instead she turned away. "The meeting begins soon, and I must see to Isobel. I will be there when you begin."

"Look, Gwen means nothing to me! But I have to see her. She's the only one who might know what the

Shalnuksis are going to do. And she asked to see me alone. Don't you understand? We need her. The whole country needs her."

"Certainly I understand," Tylara said. "You told her that her child would have the stars."

"It was a way of speaking," Rick said. "Our children will have no less opportunity."

Her smile was wintry.

"For the stars, or here on Tran," Rick insisted. "You need have no jealousy of Gwen Tremaine!"

"I have none."

"You damned well don't act that way! And now you're angry, and I'm sorry."

"Have I reason to be angry?"

"Tylara, please. I don't need this," Rick said. "And I must speak to Gwen."

"I understand perfectly." She strode from the room.

Women, Rick thought. Is she determined to drive me away from her?

He brooded all the way down the stone corridors to the guest suite. He paused at the door, then knocked.

"Enter."

Gwen Tremaine was standing at the window. Yellow light streamed through light brown hair, showed up green eyes. She was very short; "five-foot-two," the song said, and that was about right. She wore a spectacular blue gown, cut in a style more Parisian than anything fashionable on Tran. It was made of some kind of blue silk that shone in the evening sunlight. She continued to stare out into the gathering dusk as Rick came in.

"A penny for your thoughts," he said in English.

She laughed. "There aren't any pennies here. But I'll tell you anyway. I was trying to decide which made me sadder, that Earth is out there somewhere, or that my baby's father is there-"

"You do miss him, then?"

She shook her head slowly. "Rick, I don't know. Sometimes I want him so bad I could die. And sometimes I just want to kill him." She turned away from the window. "I was in love with him, you know. I could say I was kidnapped, but I wasn't, I got on that damned flying saucer of my own free will because the man I loved asked me to."

"And left you here when you got pregnant."

"Yes." She went over to the small table and sat down in one of the wooden chairs. "Wine? Yes, let's both have some."

"The real question is did Les mean it when he said he'd come back?"

"Yes. That's the real question." She drank the full glass of wine and poured another. "He said he'd come back-but Rick, have you ever thought that maybe he intended all along to dump me here? That he never did tell me the truth about anything? Sure, I got pregnant and wouldn't let his damn machine do an abortion, but maybe that was just a good excuse to get rid of me. Maybe he was tired of me anyway."